


Promises

by seki



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, M/M, festive fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 17:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17084438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seki/pseuds/seki
Summary: A walk through Insomnia's Winter market, just the two of them.





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> For yukiscorpio, as ever.

"What did you say?"

Noctis leans in, close, and says in a voice just loud enough to be heard over the nearby crowds, "I think I left my gloves somewhere."

"Oh." Ignis twists, stares at the heaving mass of people that throng the avenues of the Winter fair. "Where do you think they are?"

"Not a clue."

It's been a long time since Noctis was the sort of child who made Ignis want to sew his gloves to his coat cuffs. In those days, when they visited the Winter fair, there were only a modest amount of stalls and visitors. They could thread their ways through the crowds with ease. These days, if the mass of people is moving in a particular direction, it's best just to accept that there will be no going counter to it. Wherever Noctis has left his gloves, retracing their steps is not an option. "It's not like you to be so careless."

Noctis stuffs his hands into his coat pockets and shrugs.

There's a bitter coldness to the air. Frost laces the roofs of the stalls. And Noctis's hands are smaller than Ignis's, which makes merely loaning his gloves over a tad unhelpful. Ignis, without really thinking about it beyond that, begins to undo the complicated knot of his scarf. "Hold out your hands," he says.

"You don't think I might need those?"

"Can't have the Prince getting cold hands."

"Alright." Noctis lets Ignis nudge him into the lee of a hot chestnut stall and wind the scarf around both hands. "Only you," Noctis says, with a wry smile, "would tie me up on our first date."

That's enough to make Ignis pause. Noctis hadn't been very direct, earlier, had merely asked if Ignis wanted to go to the market that night, just the two of them. There's been enough meaningful looks, awkwardly flirty comments and lingering touches lately for Ignis to have been _fairly_ sure that Noctis was asking him out. Still, it's nice to have confirmation.

"You made it necessary," he says, pulling the ends over and through, so the makeshift muffler is secure. "Although if I wished to tie you up properly, I'd do a better job than this."

"Is that so?"

Ignis lifts his chin, assumes a mysterious air. "If you're very lucky, you'll find out."

"Oo. Someone's a tease."

"I might be. And you should get used to that. Anticipation is a spice, you know."

Noctis grins at him. "I'm all for spicy. In the meantime, you gonna win me that Behemoth we saw?"

"First things first."

Ignis turns up his collar against the breeze and tows an unprotesting Noctis along the length of two souvenirs stalls and into a nook filled with humming machinery. The vending machines tonight have been carefully stocked with hot mulled ciders and appropriately warming beverages, but there's still old favourites for those who can't get by without their usual fix. He tucks the Ebony can into place beneath the scarf as an impromptu handwarmer, which makes Noctis first roll his eyes and then smile fondly up at him, and then he spots over Noctis's shoulder something that is absolutely perfect for the spirit of the evening.

"Wait here," he says.

"But--"

"I'll only be a second."

Noctis makes a vaguely helpless gesture with his wrapped hands. "Fine. Hurry back."

The queue at the stall isn't very long, but by the time he fights his way back across the aisle Noctis is leaning against the vending machine with an expression of forlorn abandonment. "A gift for you," Ignis says, and -- since Noctis can't really stop him, right now -- places the headband on Noctis's head, tweaking it into place.

Noctis sighs. "Is this really necessary?"

"They suit you." Ignis tips his head to one side, considering. "Surprisingly well, in fact. I always suspected you of being at least half cat."

Noctis pouts. "Fine. Have your fun. But I want that behemoth."

Ignis slides an arm around Noctis's waist as they rejoin the mass of people moving through the market. It's still as dizzying as it's been for weeks, the awareness that his attraction to Noctis isn't unrequited, that there's something both romantic and sexual blossoming between them.

And it's thrilling that Noctis took the initiative on there being a date. Whatever prompted that -- impatience, perhaps, or just more courage than Ignis had worked up -- well, Ignis is _very_ appreciative.

"Over there," Noctis says, pointing, and he stretches up a little, as if to reach Ignis's ear more easily. "The shooting gallery has some. See?"

The behemoths Noctis wants are huge, metre-long purple plush toys with black felted tails and manes. Ignis suspects that Noctis is less interested in owning the actual item than in pushing for Ignis to obtain one of the hardest-to-obtain prizes. He eyes the shooting gallery setup with heavy cynicism. It's busy, but the number of prizes being handed out is low. A rifle is not his preferred weapon, nor does it seem like the game will be anything but heavily rigged against players.

The darts and knife-throwing games would have been easier, he thinks, and then glances at Noctis, who raises an eyebrow, as if in challenge.

Right then. Ignis is _more_ than capable of defying the odds he's presented with. He steps forward.

"Hit two cans off, and you win a small prize. Hit five off, you win a medium prize. If you knock off the entire stack _and_ the two targets above, you get the grand prize." The attendant points up at the large plushes, suspended at one side. "Fifty yin gets you six goes."

Ignis forks over the money, peels off his own gloves, and picks up the gun. The balance of it feels as wrong as he suspected. Four shots later, however, he's pretty sure he's gotten the miscalibration calculated; the gun pulls both upwards and leftwards, but there's actually enough force behind the pellets that the game isn't _truly_ unfair.

That is, as long as the cans aren't being held in place somehow. Ignis hits the two corner cans in the stack with his last pellets, which makes the stack shift but not fall. Promising, since he was only aiming to unbalance them.

"Aw," Noctis says, "well--"

"Another six goes," Ignis says, waving the man back over and handing over the yin. "Please."

The attendant shrugs, but -- as Ignis had hoped -- because Ignis hadn't knocked any cans over, he doesn't go and readjust the stack. Three precisely-misaimed shots at the lower row of cans is then sufficient to knock the whole stack over, which makes Noctis whoop, and then Ignis hits a target, narrowly misses the second one because Noctis leans into him at the wrong moment, and then hits it squarely in the middle.

Noctis laughs, from his place against Ignis's side. "Nice work."

"Huh," the man says. "We got us a crack-shot. One of the glaives, by any chance, sir? Gun expert?"

"Not at all," Ignis says, truthfully. "Just rather lucky. Now. I believe my boyfriend would like--Noct?"

"That one," Noctis decides, pointing at the behemoth closest to the back.

It's only when the booth's manager pulls the toy down that Ignis realises that, naturally, Noctis has picked the one with the most absurd expression. "It's wall-eyed, Noct."

"Isn't it perfect?" Noctis looks positively _feral_ with glee. "Best prize, Specs. I knew you could do it."

They stand in the gap between the shooting gallery and the Haunted House ride as Ignis tucks the monstrosity down into the circle of Noctis's arms. "I'm entirely sure you could have won it for yourself. You're a better shot than I am."

"Yeah, but this way, I get to do _this._ " Noctis stretches up, leans in so the behemoth is squashed between them, and presses a kiss to Ignis's cheek. "Thank you."

"Anything for you."

"For your boyfriend, huh?" Noctis is distinctly pink-tinged, and Ignis would like to hope that's not all down to the temperature. "I could get used to that."

Ignis puts his arm around Noctis again. This time, Noctis snuggles tight against him, but ducks his head as if embarrassed by doing so. "Noct," Ignis says, softly, and Noctis tips his head to peek up at him. It's a lovely image, Noctis looking up through his lashes, smiling and blushing. "You'd _better_ get used to being my boyfriend," Ignis says, and dips his own head.

It's a brief but splendid kiss, Noctis's lips cold against Ignis's, then Noctis turning and pressing upwards and opening his warm, _glorious_ mouth into it.

There's a huge purple behemoth toy squashed between them, and Ignis's glasses are almost certainly askew within microseconds, but it's perfect nonetheless.

"Mm," Noctis says, grinning, and then his face falls. "Ah, shit."

"What's wrong?"

"I still have those stupid cat ears on, don't I?"

Ignis laughs, curls a hand into the back of Noctis's head. The ears are black, and blend in very well with Noctis's hair. It's a very cute look, all in all. "So?"

Noctis just _pouts_ at him, and Ignis pulls the headband backwards, so it slides off Noctis's head. Noctis surges upwards, as soon as they're gone, and kisses him again. The force of it presses Ignis back against the side of the Haunted House -- not that he minds in the slightest -- and then Noctis makes a frustrated noise and pulls his hands free of the scarf-wrap.

Ignis barely notices the can thudding on the ground as Noctis cranes upwards, pulls Ignis's head down with both hands and continues to kiss him as if they're not in public, as if they couldn't be seen by any passer-by who glanced sideways at the right time. Ignis, mindful of how cold his hands must be, slides the one not holding the cat-ears beneath Noctis's jacket and above the t-shirt. Noctis's body is lean and warm, his shoulders tight with surprisingly firm muscle.

"Damn," Noctis says, pulling his head back a lot sooner than Ignis would like. "Okay, um. We need to stop, or I'm, ah--"

"Going to have an obvious problem?"

"Bit late for that," Noctis says, and he's smiling so much it's making his eyes crease up. "I was thinking I'd just have to make up some excuse for us to go home early."

"Why make excuses?"

"...y'know, you're right." Noctis adjusts Ignis's glasses, which leaves them still lopsided enough for Ignis to be aware of it. "Come on, then."

They gather the dropped items; behemoth, scarf, now-cold Ebony can. Ignis is about to rewrap Noctis's outstretched hands when Noctis pulls them away suddenly. 

"Wait," he says. "I mean, fine, but… where are _your_ gloves?"

Ignis blinks, and pats his pockets. Oh.

They push their way to the front of the queues for the shooting gallery, since it's right there, but the staff all shake their heads apologetically. Ignis's gloves are gone. At least they're not his favourites, he thinks, and his coat has deep pockets. It could be worse.

Noctis pulls him back into their little alcove, sets down the giant toy, and grabs Ignis's hand. "Not like you to be so careless," he says, but he's smiling. "Okay, stay still."

Noctis wraps their hands in the scarf, soft wool against cold skin, Noctis's fingers threaded lovingly between his. It's a warm knot, now, that connects them, and Noctis squeezes tightly.

"There," he says, and smiles up at Ignis again as he encircles the behemoth with his other arm. "Home time."

Ignis inspects the wrapped parcel that is their hands. "With one warm hand apiece?"

"One's enough to start with, right?"

"To start what, exactly?"

Noctis twists, rises up a tad and presses a lingering kiss to the corner of Ignis's mouth. "Whatever comes after more of that."

Despite the iciness in the air, a warmth spreads up Ignis's spine. "Yes, I should think so."

"Wanna go home now?"

"More than I've wanted nearly anything in my life, yes."

It's going to take them a while to get out of the market, Ignis knows. They'll be forced to move at the pace of the crowds, follow whatever circuitous route leads back to the exit gates. It might take as much as an hour to actually leave this place. It's going to be excruciating, Ignis thinks, having to wait to find out what exactly Noctis's _after_ consists of.

Noctis squeezes his hand, and leans against him hard, and Ignis presses a kiss to Noctis's temple.

Oh well. He'll just have to wait. And the rewards promise to be delicious.

Anticipation _is_ a spice, after all.


End file.
